


Dire: Maybe Just a Speck

by LeoArcana



Series: Dire 'verse [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, M/M, Skinwalker Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoArcana/pseuds/LeoArcana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emotions reveal things.  Heightened emotions reveal deeper things.  And sometimes when felt deeply enough, they unlock things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel flipped through the stack of envelopes that had been in his mailbox.  He didn’t often pick up his mail, he usually didn’t get much anyway.  On top of that, his mailbox was all the way at the end of the driveway and unless he was expecting something, it was never worth the walk.

But he had come to expect certain letters in the mail as of late.  They weren’t one he wanted by any means, but they had kept coming regardless.  They were letters from Michael’s attorney.  Castiel had opened the first one, fearing he’d unknowingly done something wrong and was being sued.  The letter had said that the attorney was working on getting Michael out of prison; that he was trying to negotiate some sort of work release or half-way home.  To do that, Michael needed to prove he no longer harbored murderous intent to Castiel.  The judge was refusing to release him, regardless of what any therapist or psychologist might say.  However, if Michael could act as a civil person around Castiel under supervision of the judge as well as a psychologist, he would reconsider the sentence.

Castiel shredded the letter and called the attorney to tell him no.  There was absolutely no way he was going to see his brother.  He’d also made a few brash remark’s about the man’s stance in the situation and his choice of client in the heat of the moment.

Still, the attorney would send a letter every couple weeks.  Castiel read a few; he was trying to negotiate with him.  He tried offering short encounters, more time in between, places and times of Castiel’s choice…  The last one he read suggested simply writing letters to Michael.  Castiel rolled his eyes and threw in the garbage. 

Castiel had come to expect these letters and flicked them in the trash without so much as opening them.  What he hadn’t expected was to now see an envelope with from the Nevada State Prison.  He opened that one to find a typed letter from the warden and another smaller envelope.  The warden’s letter indicated the other envelope was from Michael, written per his attorney; who had requested the letter be sent this way to better the chances of Castiel reading it rather than discard it.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the other envelope.  Just looking at it, he could feel anger beginning to quickly boil in his stomach.  The envelope crinkled in his hand as he tightened his grip on it, unable to throw it away for some reason.  With a short cry, Castiel threw on the counter and left it.

Dean came across it a couple hours later, curious what it was.  He picked it up, turning it over and furrowing his brow at the scribbled letters on the front.  He still couldn’t read particularly well and the hasty scribbling wasn’t helping either.  He lifted the envelope closer in hopes of making out the letters better and caught a faint trace of what he almost took for Castiel’s scent.  His mind went blank for a long minute before he was hit with the memory of the first time he’d smelled it.

_“Dean… I’m Michael.”_

Until now, the memory had been lost to the trauma.  Dean let out a sharp yelp and threw the paper like it had burned him.  He hurried away from it, as if fearing it would come alive, and quickly went to Castiel.  He made himself small against Castiel, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder and muttering about paper and bad memories.  It didn’t take much for Castiel to figure out what had caused him distress.

 

The envelope sat untouched for four days before Castiel caved.  He ripped it open and skimmed through it quickly.  The apology and promise of civility sounded entirely fake and insincere.  None of it was written how Michael spoke and Castiel had a feeling that he must’ve been forced to write it and had been watched while doing so.  Castiel crumpled the paper up, tore it into four pieces and threw it out.

               

Michael’s letters had taken to replacing his attorney’s.  Both in the mailbox and the garbage can.  It wasn’t until several weeks later that Castiel contemplated opening one.  Since the first one, they had been coming on their own, rather than hidden inside another envelope.  This most recent one showed boldly pressed writing; he’d been angry when he addressed it.  Against his better judgement, Castiel opened it.

What he found inside was a single page, back to back, detailing Michael’s fury and his intent of coming after both Castiel and Dean.  He wrote exactly what he planned to do to both of them; he wouldn’t kill Castiel immediately, in ideal circumstance, he would do just enough to incapacitate him.  Shoot him in the knee, slice his Achilles, strike in the throat hard enough to leave him choking, whichever suited the situation at hand.  As for Dean, this was wear circumstance was the key player.  He would either be sedated, leaving Michael the chance to then incapacitate Castiel, or if he couldn’t be subdued, he would be incapacitated in similar manner.  In the best case, he was dragging Dean away, literally, and taking him back to Purgatory.  In the worst, he’d either take a bullet between the eyes in front of Castiel’s own.  Perhaps Castiel would follow then.  Or else he’d leave them both with fatal wounds and let them watch each other die helplessly. 

He couldn’t stop rereading it.  Each passing made Michael’s threats vivid in his head and added to his growing alarm and fury.  The rational side of his mind knew there was nothing Michael could do, he wasn’t going to get out early.  But the less than rational side screamed at him that his attorney was working to get him out early and that he was persistent in his attempts.  He would end up finding a way to get him out.

Castiel shredded the paper to tiny pieces before he could form another thought.  The little pieces flitted down as he stood there seething, his chest heaving and his body thrumming.  He ground his teeth and kicked at the small pile of paper at his feet before storming off.

It took him the better part of an hour to calm down, but the thrumming under his skin didn’t stop.  He dismissed it as adrenaline that hadn’t yet been absorbed.  The feeling increased when he mentioned it to Dean; of course he chalked that up to a fresh wave of adrenaline and anger as he spoke.  Dean had likewise been outraged and Castiel quickly had to shift his focus to talking Dean out of running all the way to Nevada.

By nightfall, their anger had ebbed.  For the most part.  But the odd sensation never left Castiel, even as he tried to settle down to sleep.  He tossed and turned all night, testing Dean’s patience.  Castiel forced himself to lay still and close his eyes; the buzzing under his skin intensified then.  He dug his nails into the palms of his hands and chewed on his lip, trying to will the feeling away.

The sensation continued to grow and actually started to become painful.  Castiel wiggled out of Dean’s arms and sat up, sending two lines of white hot pain down his back.  He cried out and fell on his side, curling up and worsening the pain. 

Dean was over him in a heartbeat, panicking and trying to get him to look at him.  Castiel didn’t respond to any of Dean’s words; he couldn’t hear them over the roar in his ears.  Dean rolled him over and pried his arms away from his face.  He raised his voice, repeating Castiel’s name over and over as he cupped his face.

The deafening roar in Castiel’s ears began ringing in a high pitch, the pain in his back elevated to feel like something was tearing his skin and he felt like he was going to vibrate right out of his body.

All at once, it stopped.  Castiel gasped for breath, like he’d been held under water, and scrambled back as he quickly searched around the room.  Of course, there was nothing save for Dean kneeling beside him with a concerned look on his face.

“Okay…?” Dean ventured.

“What?” Castiel panted.

“You okay?”

“I… I don’t know….” Castiel admitted.

There was no more pain.  It was almost as if it had never happened.  Castiel would’ve believed it hadn’t happened, that maybe it had been just a nightmare or that he was still in a dream.  He did feel weightless, but everything was far too clear and crisp to be a dream.  Castiel knitted his brows together upon realizing just how clear everything was in the darkened room.  He could almost make out Dean’s freckles.  Castiel looked to the window, thinking maybe the night sky was clear and letting in enough moonlight for him to see.

“What time is it?”            

“Um… mid-midnight maybe?” Dean shrugged, “Not sleep long.”

There was no visible moon outside.

Castiel groaned and rubbed his eyes, wincing at the pressure.  He laid back down, curling towards Dean slightly.  Dean lowered himself to look up at Castiel’s face again, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Sure okay?”

“I think so,” Castiel mumbled, “I feel…weird though.”

“Look weird,” Dean commented.

Castiel frowned and glared up at him.  He’d given Dean the same look before whenever he made childish taunts and insults like this, but this was the first time Dean flinched back.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” Dean replied quickly.

“Dean—“

“Nothing,” Dean repeated, “Just, um…tired.”

Dean laid down beside Castiel, almost gingerly, and tentatively reached out for Castiel.  Castiel snuggled closer and buried his face in Dean’s chest, grateful the pain and buzzing had stopped.  He wondered what it had been and tried to think of anything that such a feeling might be a symptom of, but nothing came to mind as he finally began to drift off to sleep.  He resolved to look into it online in the morning.

 

The next morning, everything was just as crystal clear as it had been last night.  Everything he picked up felt lighter and… stranger somehow.  Like he could feel the textures in more detail.  He could swear he could even hear Dean still snoring in their room.  He snatched up his phone and searched everything that had happened last night, but no results showed.  He searched everything separately and did get results, but not any that made any sense.  He didn’t have any compression fractures in his spine, his heart and lungs were just as healthy as they had been his whole life, he hadn’t been anywhere to pick up some kind of foreign illness… Maybe it was a dream and Castiel had just convinced himself things looked and felt different.

Dean came shuffling into the kitchen a few minutes later, leaning on Castiel sleepily.  Castiel glanced down at Dean resting his head on his shoulder.  He looked brighter, more radiant than yesterday. 

“Where go last night?” Dean yawned.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” Castiel answered slowly.

“Woke up, not there.”

“Oh… Probably the bathroom then,” Castiel shrugged.

“Mmm…”

 

Four days later, Castiel received another letter from the Nevada State Prison.  Michael was being transferred to a trauma ward.  Castiel scrunched up his face as he read through the letter.  Michael had woken half the cell block a few nights prior with a blood curdling scream.  Guards had rushed to his cell and found him pressed into the corner of his cell, whimpering, crying and shaking.  He didn’t respond to the guards, he just started muttering something about blue eyes and black feathers.  A psychological evaluation had determined he’d suffered trauma from something. 

The warden was skeptical, naturally.  Nothing had come in or out of the prison, much less Michael’s cell block, and the security footage proved it.  They checked it several times over and the only odd thing was the footage went a little fuzzy and jumped in one part, then Michael was screaming and guards were running in.

Michael would remain in the psych ward until he had calmed down, but in the letter, the warden sounded doubtful. 

Michael’s letters stopped, as did his attorney’s.  The only letter Castiel received after that was a letter stating that Michael was going to be transferred to a psychiatric prison.  They had made some progress with him, getting him to talk more about what had scared him.  He rambled on about blue eyes, black feathers, rings of light and promised profusely to ‘not hurt the dog’.  All he drew in art therapy were hasty scribbles of two monsters.  When asked what they were, he pointed a shaky finger to each one.

“Th-the a-angel and h-his dog.  Don’t h-hurt them.  D-don’t hurt the dog.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/18/16 note edit:  
> okay idk what happened to the note that was here or what i said before, but here's what was requested  
> prompt: Hey, I'd like to make a suggestion for a timestamp! (: When I finished 'Dire' I bbegan to wonder what happened to Michael. I'd love if you could write a small piece about him. Did he get a new pet? Is he aware of Dean being alive? Is he planning on getting revenge on Castiel? I'd really appreciate if you could write something or maybe just answer my questions, because I am quite interested in his character. No worries, if you don't like it or don't have the time! (:  
> [want a prompt?](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com/ask)


	2. Chapter 2

“You look different,” Jo commented, “What’d you do?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Castiel asked.

“There’s definitely something,” Jo insisted, “You don’t have to hide anything.”

All day, the regular patrons had been asking Castiel what he’d done differently, but none of them could tell him what it was they thought was different.  A few had guessed dying his hair, some guessed contacts, others guessed getting more sleep.  Castiel hadn’t done any of those things.  During his break, he’d gone into the bathroom to stare at his reflection to see if he could see what others thought was different, but there was nothing.  The only thing he noted was that the mirror seemed to reflect better than before; maybe Ellen had finally gotten it replaced.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Castiel snipped.

Jo started to say something, but flinched at the sound of a glass breaking.  Both of them turned towards the sound and saw a bewildered patron at the bar staring down at a pile of shattered glass in a puddle of beer.  The man looked up at them helplessly, then back down at the mess.  Castiel pursed his lips and grabbed a few towels from underneath the bar.  He moped the beer and glass into a smaller pile, then swept it off the edge of the bar into his other hand, protected by another towel.  He dumped the handful of glass into the garbage and shook out the towel before going back to wipe down the bar again.  He took the man’s plate of food, worried that a few shards might’ve landed in there and promised to get him another plate at no charge.

Jo went to the kitchen and asked Ash to remake the food.  When she brought it out to the man, Castiel could hear him telling her he honestly didn’t know what happened.  He wasn’t even touching the glass when it broke, it just shattered all of a sudden.  She told him not to worry about it and served him another glass.

A couple hours passed and Castiel and Jo had nearly forgotten about the incident.  At the moment, he was more preoccupied in dealing with a group of drunken twenty-somethings.  They were starting to get a little rowdy and bothersome to the neighboring tables.  He’d gone over and asked them to calm themselves down a few times already and everytime they’d promised to quiet down while a couple of the girls flirted at him.  The group of young adults were getting loud again and Castiel tried to ask Jo or Ash to talk to them this time, since he clearly wasn’t having any effect on them.  Jo had gone over to them and asked them to settle down and warned them of being cut off; they were quieter for about five minutes.  Not even half the time Castiel got from asking.  Ash went next, but actually worsened the situation and ended up sitting down with them.

He marched over to the table and grabbed Ash by the sleeve to get his attention and hauled him up, noting that Ash was lighter than he looked.  Castiel tightly asked the group to quiet down again and, just as before, one girl dared to make a flirtatious comment and this time reached out for him.  He quickly sidestepped her, asked her to refrain from touching and dragged Ash away.

Fifteen minutes later, the group of young adults were louder than before.  Castiel grumbled and clenched his teeth, unaware of the crack that split along the inside edge of the bar.  He’d dismissed it as one of the aged floor boards protesting being stepped on.  He strode over to their table and before he could say anything, the group cheered as if welcoming one of their friends joining the party.  He raised his voice to be heard over them and, in an instant, they went from covering their ears at the volume to jumping and shielding themselves from imploding glasses and plates.

The entirety of the Roadhouse fell silent and stared at the table as they all stared wide eyed at each other.  Glass and ceramic sat glittering amongst an amalgamation of spilled drinks and ruined food.  One of the young adults began to mutter quick apologies, followed by the others doing the same.  In an effort to show their remorse, a couple of them started to try to clean up the table, but Castiel stopped them.  They shied back, mumbling more apologies as Castiel walked away to get something to clean the table up.

The group quietly paid for their food and drinks before slinking out of the Roadhouse, leaving Castiel and Ash to clean up the mess.  Ash held a garbage can at the end of the table as Castiel swept all the debris into it.  As soon as most of it was swept away, two deep cracks were visible in the table.

“What the hell, man?  They broke the table?” Ash asked.

“I… I don’t think they did, they never banged on it…” Castiel thought aloud.

“They had to do something, dude.  The table breaking is the only thing that could’ve broken all the dishes.”

Castiel hummed and furrowed his eyebrows.  Even if they had broken the table somehow, it would’ve destroyed the dishes the way they laid in the garbage.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of his shift and the entire way home.  The only thing he knew of that could cause spontaneous breaking was if the glass and ceramic had a small hairline fracture or nick in it and the material just gave up.  But for so much of it to break at once… Perhaps only one had given up and its own explosion stressed the others too much and set them off.  And all of them breaking dealt damage to the table.  He supposed it made sense, but it was still so strange and slightly concerning.

He was still thinking about when he got home, but the thoughts were moved to the back of his head as he got out of the car and his body ached.  It wasn’t the first time, it usually happened when he worked longer shifts or spent most of his time standing.  He just felt stiff and sore and like he was carrying a heavy back pack.  He trudged up to the front door and pushed it open with his shoulder.

The house was completely silent; Dean was probably out on a run.  He sighed and went to lay down on the couch.  He flopped down on his side and rolled onto his back, putting his feet up on the arm of the couch.  He laid there for a minute or two before he got too uncomfortable and turned onto his side.  It was better, but still not comfortable.  Even laying on his stomach wasn’t all that comfortable; in fact, the heavy weight feeling increased. 

Castiel groaned and sat up, feeling a weight pulling at his back.  He leaned back against the couch, hoping to find comfort in slouching, but it wasn’t any better.  He laid back down on his side, facing the back of the couch.  The weight pulled again, but apart from that feeling, this was probably the most comfortable he was going to get.

He laid on the couch with his eyes closed, trying to take a nap, for another hour until he heard Dean coming.  He wasn’t in the house, Castiel could hear the dried grass crunching under his feet— paws, his mind corrected.  There were too many footsteps for him to be human at the moment. 

Castiel hardly moved as Dean opened the back door, now human.  He walked into the living room a few steps, then stopped.

“What i-is, um… that?” Dean asked.

Castiel made a pinched face, then looked over his shoulder.

“What is what?”

“That.”

Dean pointed to the space between the edge of the couch where Castiel laid and the floor.  Castiel twisted over a bit and felt like he was rolling onto his arm the wrong way.  He grunted and sat up to look where Dean had been pointing.  He didn’t see anything.

“Dean, there’s nothing there,” Castiel said.

“Moved,” Dean replied.

Castiel looked up at him to see him staring at a space just behind him to his left.  Castiel knitted his brows together and shifted around.  As he did, Dean’s gaze followed the apparently invisible object as it moved behind Castiel to keep at his back.

“Dean, what’re you talking about?” Castiel sighed.

“On your b-back.  Something there.”

Castiel craned his neck to try and look at his back, wondering if he’d gotten something on his shirt while he was at work.  But he still saw nothing.

“I don’t see anything,” Castiel grumbled.

He twisted his arm up behind his back to feel around; a couple spots felt… different.  He couldn’t describe it, it wasn’t an issue of texture exactly.  But something was different.  He pulled his shirt over his head, briefly wondering what it got hung up on, and held it out in front of himself.  There was nothing on it and it felt fine.  He turned to ask Dean what was going on and saw him once again staring at a space behind him.

“Dean…” Castiel said slowly, “What’s going on?”

“D-don’t know,” Dean answered.

“Okay, well, what do you see?”

Dean pursed his lips in thought and tilted his head, never taking his eyes off whatever it was. 

“Looks like, um…”

Dean stalled as he tried to think of the word.  He held his hands helplessly in front of himself, wiggling his fingers.

“N-not shiny, um—“

“Sparkly?” Castiel guessed.

He twisted around, trying to catch a glimpse of anything sparkling.

“Kind of,” Dean whined, “Not that bright.”

“Glitter?”

“Uh…”

“Glimmer…?”

Dean shook his head.

“Glinting?”

“Glinting?” Dean repeated.

“A little, quick flash,” Castiel supplied.

“Yes, glinting.  Something big glinting.”

“It can’t be anything big, I don’t see anything,” Castiel huffed.

“St-stuck on you.”

“Okay, but what is it?” Castiel bit.

Dean winced at the volume of his voice and Castiel stared in confusion.  He hadn’t even raised his voice, yet Dean was covering his ears.  Castiel swallowed nervously and took a few steps towards Dean.  Dean peeked one eye open, flicking his gaze from Castiel’s face to just behind him, then above him.

“Dean, please,” Castiel spoke softly, “I don’t know— What’s going on?”

“It’s… don’t know,” Dean whined, “Is big and, um, sh-shadowy? Sometimes glint.”

“I don’t what that is, I can’t see anything.”

“Moves when you move.  Is stuck to you, on y-your back.”

Castiel reached over his shoulder in an effort to try to find what Dean was talking about.  All he found was the same odd feeling from before.  This time around, he realized it almost felt like he was trying to move his hand through honey.  Castiel pursed his lips and took his phone out, offering it to Dean.

“Take a picture,” Castiel said.

“What?  How?”

Castiel opened the camera app and told Dean all he had to was tap the screen.  Dean aimed the phone all around the room, momentarily fascinated by it.  He turned it on Castiel and made another confused face.

“What?” Castiel prompted.

“Not see it.”

Dean looked up from the phone at Castiel, then back down and up again.

“Still there, not see it here.”

“Take the picture anyway.”

Dean shrugged and tapped the screen a few times.  He handed the phone back to Castiel and Castiel went through the gallery.  At first, all he saw was a few pictures of his shirtless self.  He wondered if editing them at all would show something; all he got was a few tiny sparkles that showed up.  But that didn’t help it, they could be anything.  Even just dust specks floating around.

Castiel went to the bathroom and stared intently at his reflection— well, around his reflection.  There was a faint shadow on the wall behind him, but he couldn’t tell if he was making himself see things or if the paint had become discolored over time and he was just noticing it.  He took a step to the side and the shadowed spot appeared to move.  Castiel’s eyes widened and he moved again, taking another step and turning.  The shadow moved accordingly, there was something.

Whatever it was, it looked to have two apexes.  It broadened downwards from each one and began to taper off around his waist.  Below that, the shadowed thing blended in to the shadows of the bathroom.  Castiel looked up at his face in the mirror again, flicking his eyes from his face to the tinted part of the wall behind him.  The longer he stared at it, the lighter it started to become and he was acutely aware of the heavy feeling lifting.

“Dean,” Castiel called.

Dean was in the bathroom a second later.  He stopped at the doorway and cocked his head, looking not at the wall but more at Castiel’s shoulders.

“Is… it going away?”

Dean nodded his head. 

He moved closer to Castiel and tentatively reached out.  He put his hand on the shadow and Castiel felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise.  It was a seemingly empty space and Dean wasn’t touching him, but he could feel Dean’s fingers curling around him almost as if he were grabbing his arm.  The shadows continue to fade away and the feeling became more distant until Dean curled his fingers into a loose fist; whatever he was touching was gone.

“Feel okay?” Dean murmured.

“I think so,” Castiel answered.

His skin tingled lightly, reminiscent of the night he’d experience the random, sharp and severe pain.  His heart skipped a beat in fear of a repeat episode, but the buzzing likewise faded.  He glanced up in the mirror once more, the shadows were completely gone and Dean stood behind him, puzzled and searching for what he’d seen.

Something was there.  Dean had clearly seen it, Castiel had seen something of it.  They weren’t crazy.  Castiel was struck with the wonder if whatever it had been was what had had people asking him all day if something was different about him.  He bit his lip anxiously, his mind giving him no suggestions as to what it was.

He hoped it whatever it may was a fluke, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i actually had two requests for more of this timestamp, yay! :D but i'm going to consider them both filled...mostly because i hadn't even started this by the time i got the second one but also because neither specified anything in particular  
> prompt 1: I just read your Dire sequel the one where you make Castiel be angel and went to scared Michael in the jail. It's totally interesting! I really wish you'd write more from this story. Would you please write more?  
> prompt 2: I'd LOVE to see you expand on the story of Cas unlocking his angel identity/powers in the Dire verse with a sequel of sorts to the time stamp about this. Please?  
> [want a prompt?](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com/ask)


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two days since either of them had seen the shadows.  Castiel was constantly looking at every reflective surface, biting his lip anxiously and relaxing when he saw nothing but himself.  Dean would stare sometimes, eyes narrowed in concentration like he could almost see them, but nothing was ever there.

Castiel wanted to call it a fluke, but that— whatever that was, it couldn’t be a fluke.  It was too unnatural.  His anxiousness and Dean’s wariness never faded.  Castiel had tried going online to find out what it could have been, but he wasn’t getting anything sensible.  Though he supposed to most that the situation wouldn’t seem sensible.  He humored the more outlandish articles and forums, sometimes they could have a glimmer of truth in them in situations like these.  But still, nothing relevant came up.

Dean had taken to his own research when Castiel was at work.  He’d ventured out into town, leaving himself enough time to get back home just as Castiel got home.  He brought a bundle of clothes with him, shifting and dressing himself in back alleys on the outskirts of town.  He walked through town, intent on going to the library.  He’d been there a few times with Sam and it seemed like a good place to try looking for information on what happened with Castiel. 

However, when he got there, he had no idea where to go.  He tried asking a librarian for help, but because of his speech impediment and the oddity of the situation he was trying to explain, she could little more than point him towards the fiction section, specifically mythology.  Dean thanked her anyway and walked down the aisle, eyeing the spines of books.  He stopped every now and then to pluck one from the shelf and scowl at its cover, trying to discern what they said.  Fanciful writing, foreign words and long words made it difficult, but he quietly sounded them out to himself.

Dean found two mythology books he thought might have something useful in them, judging from their titles and table of contents.  He went to the check out and shifted awkwardly; he didn’t have a library card, but he was fairly sure he remembered Sam’s.  He tapped at the screen the way he remembered Sam doing it, hardly paying attention to what the onscreen buttons actually said.  His first try at Sam’s account was wrong, but he switched two numbers when he retried it and the computer allowed him to check out the two books.  He dropped them in one of the plastic bags beside the computer and strolled out.

He walked back to the same alley he’d shifted and gotten dressed in and stripped down, stuff his clothes in the bag.  At first, he thought it would be much easier with the bag.  But the number of times it struck him in the chest, and very nearly in the face, as he ran was enough that he never wanted to carry a bag while running again.  Not to mention the annoying sound of crinkling plastic.

Dean took note of the Impala sitting outside the garage and frowned inwardly at having not beaten Castiel home.  He butted his head against the door, too lazy to open it himself at the moment.  Castiel opened the door a minute later and Dean trotted in past him.  He started to make a comment about opening the door, but changed his mind when he saw the bag.

“What did you get?” Castiel asked.

Dean dropped the bag on the floor, the books inside giving a light thud and his clothes half spilling out of it.  He pushed himself up as he shifted and picked the bag back up.

“B-books,” Dean answered simply.

“Books?  About what?”

“M-myths,” Dean replied.

He pulled the books from the bag, letting his clothes fall back to the floor and the bag drifted down.

“Dean, I’ve looked at myths online…”

“Old myths,” Dean amended, “Have c-creatures you not, um, read a-about.”

He held the books out for Castiel.  Castiel took both of them, tucking one under his arm and opening the other.  The contents were sorted by regions, then by popularity of the creature.  He skimmed a few pages before closing it to check the other book.  The second one was organized by religions, most of which were no longer in practice or were very rarely practiced anymore.  Even in just the couple minutes he flipped through pages, both the books already had more promise.

He sat down on the couch, setting the first book to the side and started going through the book for a good starting point.  Dean pulled on his boxers and went to make dinner for the both of them; it was Castiel’s preference that he wear _something_ while cooking.  He made quick meal from the freezer, being too impatient to wait for anything to cook.  He was hungry now and he was sure Castiel was too.

He walked swiftly back to the living room, in a hurry to set down the hot plates.  It took Castiel a minute to notice Dean had come back; he was already engrossed in what he was reading.  Dean asked what it was he reading about at the moment and Castiel began telling him about what he learned of daeva.  Even from his short readings, it sounded like something that… 

That he could be.

Saying that sounded so wildly wrong to Castiel and he found himself saying over and over again that he was human.  Dean reassured him that he was, he would’ve known if Castiel weren’t from the moment they met.  What was going on, it was new.  Castiel hummed and settled back, picking the book up again. 

Dean leaned against him, peering down at the book and trying to read it himself.  He would get through about a paragraph before Castiel was turning the page.  He sighed in mild annoyance and scrunched his face in deterimination to read faster; it was in vain.  But Castiel took notice of his efforts and offered to read the stories to him.  Dean was hesitant and a little embarrassed, but nodded anyway.

Castiel read the rest of the legend of the daeva to him, sparking both their intrigue.  Dean had heard of creatures similar to daeva, but never them specifically.  Castiel flopped a mass of pages over, bringing him back to the table of contents and deciding which to read next.  As much as he would love to read about everything in the book, he was mostly focused on finding answers at the moment.

He read about the camazotz, shadow person, yokai, swan maiden, tennin, valkyrie, asteria...  He had planned on keeping with creatures related to shadows and darkness, but slowly realized he was following more along the lines of those that had wings.  Maybe that’s what the shadowed mass behind him had been.

At some point, Dean had started nodding off, jerking awake only when he snored lightly.  Castiel smiled to himself and read a little while longer before he started yawning.  He folded the top corner of the page he was on and set the book aside, nudging Dean to get up.  Castiel got to his feet and stretched as he walked towards their room, followed by a sleepy Dean dragging his feet.

Dean went straight to bed, while Castiel took a moment to go brush his teeth and, unadmittedly, to look at his reflection in search of the shadowy wings.  There was still nothing there.  He crawled into bed beside Dean, who was quick to snuggle up to him and nuzzle the back of his neck.

All night, Castiel dreamt of the creatures he read about.  The all watched him from ambiguous perches and dark spaces.  A few of them rustled their wings and drifted closer, alighting on a different, indiscernible perch.  Some of the shadow creatures shifted about and dared to steal to another hideaway.  The bravest ones seemed to be a valkyrie and an asteria; though he was having a hard time telling the two of them apart. 

The valkyrie stole closer, daring to rush up to Castiel, just inches from his face.  The valkyrie’s own face held no features, save for its familiar deep blue eyes.  Castiel’s eyes.  It had Castiel’s eyes.  It tilted its head to one side and lightly batted its darkened wings.  Castiel slowly raised his hand, reaching out to touch the creature.  It cocked its head to the other side and narrowed its eyes at his hand, then glared back up at him.

The creature flared its wings in a show of warning, but Castiel didn’t stop.  He moved his hand slowly, bringing just the tips of his fingers to touch the valkryie’s face.  As soon as he did, the creature’s eyes went wide and it snapped its wings open to their fullest extent.  It beat its begins down in a single, powerful motion that knocked Castiel back a few steps.

When he looked up again, the valkryie was gone.  He looked to the asteria and it gave him the same narrowed glare.  Castiel didn’t approach it, but it still crouched lowly in warning before twisting in on itself and disappearing.  He glanced around where other creatures had been perched; they were all disappearing in strange ways.

Once the last one vanished, Castiel woke with a start.  He propped himself up, glancing around the room.  Maybe he was still tired, but he thought he wasn’t able to see as well in the dark as he had been for the past few nights.  He yawned and settled back down, resolving to think more on it in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this most recent prompt is gonna take a few chapters to do and its also gonna be last prompt i do for this timestamp thing. i'm thinking of closing Dire requests because there's a couple i had that had multiple prompts i wanna do and i'm starting another fulltime job and going back to school RIP so i won't have a lot of time  
> prompt: I'm a huge fan of your Dire verse & saw in one of your comments on the last installment that you had more story & plot in mind for Cas' angel transformation. I'd love to see whatever you have in mind for it, along w/ a few other specifc things like: Cas & Dean's reactions to finding out he's an angel (how do they find this out? Do they seek help from someone like Kali or do research? Or both?), how do they feel about this new development?? Are there any obstacles Cas faces in his gradual.. (tbc) (Continued) Are there any obstacles Cas faces in his gradual transformation? What if he has a hard time learning to control his new abilities/powers & there's more accidents? What if he accidentally hurts Dean in the process? How does Dean react? Oh, & I'd love to see some wing!kink/snesitive wings inadvertantly discovered at some point in the future.& Dean takes full advantage of that during lovemaking. ;)  
> [i'll still do other requests in the meantime!](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com/ask)

**Author's Note:**

> THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FILL I'M SO SORRY i just couldn't decide how i wanted to do it or if i wanted Cas to be an angel or not (two attempts have a non-angel Cas)  
> prompt: It'd be so cool to somehow see and have happen that CAS and his family are also of the supernatural but are unaware as it had been like locked up in them or something idk like Dean being threatened by Michael and Cas just unlocks it  
> [want a fic request?](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com/ask)


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